Obstinance
by AtrociousNothing
Summary: Beyond Birthday could have saved L, given the chance.


If the illustrious L ever had a fault, it was his pride. At times, it frustrated us; we felt as though he needed something we could provide. As though a piece of him was broken off and missing. But time and time again, he proved to us that he was whole.

He would never refuse a case or a competitor– not that anyone could ever truly compete with the detective of the century. He was untouchable, he was brilliant, he was Justice and he was bored. Naturally, when Watari presented him with the Kira case, he had been jubilant to find such a convoluted mystery, something to slake his ennui. He had eagerly plunged into the incident, oblivious to the twin twisting in our guts and the shared, unshakable sensation that L was about to fall.

As you've probably noticed, I'm not so good with words. What I'm trying to say is that we had an intuitive hunch that this case would be L's last if he didn't cast aside his selfish pride and let us in. It seems I'm none too apt with stories either; I've failed to mention who 'we' are. We are Mello, Near as well as yours truly, Matt and this is a recount of L's last case.

Beyond Birthday sat -or rather, crouched- on his bed in California's most secure penal institution. The wrought iron door of his cell hung loosely on its hinges, wide open; for the third time that week, he had surmounted the increasingly complex locks that the wardens had installed. They were child's play for him, but he had become so restless that he resigned himself to it anyway, picking and probing with makeshift tools that had to be redesigned and replaced when they were confiscated later. In my opinion, it was rather depressing that such a stunningly smart individual was squandering his potential in prison; I will readily say that Beyond Birthday is much, much sharper than I could ever hope to be and -though they both hated to admit it- his mind was even keener than that of Near or Mello. BB was second only to L himself and during his confinement, he seemed to have come to grips with it.

He hardly blinked when the blonde young man entered the room. "B, we need you." he stated bluntly. Beyond hadn't been expecting a visitor -much less one from Wammy's House- but he was not surprised either. He had seen his share of queer circumstances, the majority of which were queerer than this.

"Please, allow me to guess at the conditions of your predicament; L is in trouble, is he not?" Beyond Birthday predicted. He had thought about it for hours on end, days, months, years, and he knew it was inevitable that the tenacious detective would eventually bite off more than he was able to chew, and that's when Wammy's House would beg for him back. That's when he'd prove that he was more than a mere runner-up.

"Look, Beyond Birthday, I know the pair of you have your differences," he acknowledged, denoting the cell around them as well as B's ghastly scars, "but your assistance would be invaluable." Beyond needed no further incentive, but he had no intention of allowing the blonde youth to know that; I'm sure he was eager to get out of that accursedly cramped cell.

"I could help you. I could help you more than you know. But I shan't be able to do so in these conditions," Beyond said suggestively, eliciting a frustrated sigh from his visitor.

"Yes, of course, we'll emancipate you. We'll wipe your records, we'll set you free. All that jazz." At this, BB frowned. To justify the hasty release of a dangerous criminal, the situation must indeed be dire.

"Very well," he replied hurriedly, impatient to assist L- the man he had admired to the point of obsessive hatred for the better part of his life. But I'm sure that then, with a tantalizing chance to finally redeem himself, that was all mere water flowing beneath B's metaphorical bridge. "I'll do whatever I can, Mihael."

"Please," the youth known as Mihael Kheel said. "Call me Mello." Then, realising that there was no way Beyond Birthday could have known his nickname, let alone his given one, Mello narrowed his azure eyes and a question began to congeal on his lips. He pushed it aside- time was ticking by all too quickly.

Near twirled a lock of his abnormal, white hair about his finger. His distress was apparent to those that knew him well; he was using his middle finger rather than his index, and that worried Roger. He wished he could comfort the boy- he was, by far, his favourite student throughout the orphanage- but he did not know how or where to begin. "Near…" he said in a strangled voice.

"Yes, Roger?" the owl-eyed boy responded, without so much as turning in his chair.

"I, uh, I just-" Roger was spared his wordless humiliation by the ring of a phone. Near snapped it up and coolly spoke into the receiver without any hesitation. What he had heard seemed to calm him, which, in turn, calmed Roger and as the call ended, the pair descended into a silence that was markedly more comfortable than before; white hair resumed its twirling- this time with the correct finger.

I must confess that when I first lay eyes on the notorious Beyond Birthday, I was perturbed. Not by his animalistic stance, or his shocking intellect, or even his impressive criminal record; it was his eyes that did it.

They arrived at Wammy's House promptly –two hours ahead of schedule, actually- upon which Roger offered them tea.

"May I have a coffee instead?" B requested with a silky voice unbecoming of a serial killer.

"Of course." Roger replied, evidently uncomfortable. "How many sugars do you take?"

"Oh, about six heaped tablespoons should do it. Also, could you put a straw in it, Roger?" Mouth slightly agape, Roger nodded and scurried from the room. "What an indecorous fellow." stated Beyond Birthday.

"Yeah, Roger's pretty unsavoury, isn't he?" agreed Mello with a husky chuckle. "Anyway, it's about time we introduced ourselves." BB bit back a bark of laughter; he already knew their names. He knew the date that they would die.

"I am Near and he is Mello." Near cut in, gesturing to Mihael. "Now, with the obligatory formalities out of the way, I will give you a full explanation of the situation at hand. I presume you are familiar with the Kira phenomenon?"

"I have been deprived of all forms of media for the past several years. I'm afraid I am rather oblivious of current affairs." Beyond Birthday replied, studying Nate River judiciously. He drew the conclusion that he was a lazy imitation of L, then felt an unexpected pang of pity for him.

"There have been a series of inexplicable murders," the pseudo-L began, without missing a beat. "The killer is allegedly a university student, able to slay his victims without being in the vicinity or, it seems, lifting a finger; all he needs to conduct his butcheries is the name and the face of a potential victim. These murders commenced with the death of Kurou Otoharada, who was in the process of terrorizing a local nursery in the Shinjuku region- from this, we have deduced that the culprit, known as 'Kira', resides in the Tokyo area and possesses a warped sense of justice. Additionally, we have cause to assume that Kira can manipulate the time of death, the cause of death and the victim's behaviour leading up to their death." Near halted the deluge of information to take a weary breath. "This information was accurate as of two days ago. Since then, another perpetrator has come to light. He calls himself 'Kira II', and kills indiscriminately, with no need for the names of his victims."

"What Near is too squeamish to say is that this new Kira has us stumped." Mello summarised abrasively, as Roger entered the room, bearing a tray that precariously held tea for Near, coffee for Beyond, hot chocolate for Mello and a pitcher of milk.

B slurped his bitter coffee –which only contained four heaped tablespoons of sugar- pensively, masking his dashing thoughts. If you subtract Kira I from Kira II, the difference was obvious; the eyes. Kira II had the eyes. The rest, however, was an enigma.

"Are you collaborating with L on this case?" he inquired. In response, Mello and Near exchanged a queasy half-glance, but otherwise remained quiet. "Of course not; if he was, you wouldn't need me!" Beyond "Backup" Birthday snickered humourlessly, interpreting their silence as an affirmation. "Is his lack of involvement in this investigation an assessment to determine which of you will replace him then?"

"No," the boys cried in unison, appearing disgusted by their synchronization.

"No," Mello reiterated. "This isn't about replacing L. It's about saving him." The diminutive, white-haired boy heaved an exasperated sigh.

"We had previously consented not to enlighten you as to L's participation, but it looks like we have no choice, courtesy of Mello's loose lips and his-"

"Stop it, Near." The blonde retorted, intercepting Nate's insults. "I'm not a moron, despite your beliefs. I know what I'm saying and I'm saying it because I trust Beyond." A throbbing quiet ensued, in which Beyond Birthday spun in his chair to even out the spinning in his head. He spun round and around and the room blurred into a mass of matte streaks. Then, halting his motion with a pale, outstretched arm, he spoke.

"Mello, what is your understanding of the social paradigm of friendship?" the ex-serial killer pressed sheepishly, seeming less like a criminal and more like a gawky child asking for ice-cream.

"A mutual relationship founded on trust, loyalty, platonic affection and respect. Why?" Mello replied hurriedly.

"Do you consider me a friend?" Beyond breathed, searching azure eyes for any unspoken answers.

"Sure I do." Mihael Kheel answered, his lips quirking.

"No, he doesn't." Nate River intoned, his eyes narrowing.

B resumed his spinning, knowing what Mello had said was true. "Near, I'm afraid that the information I'm about to divulge is both highly personal and exceedingly important; I suppose it is what one might call a secret. As an un-friendly and potentially hostile entity, I'd prefer if you didn't hear it, so please, excavate yourself from the immediate area." Near's countenance was stony as he stood and shuffled toward the door, crushing a plush impression of Beyond Birthday to his chest. "Oh, and you too, Roger," B added.

"You do realise that they will have their ears pressed to the door, right?" Mello queried, eyebrows raised sardonically as Roger lumbered out of sight. B cocked his head, his black bangs falling over and framing his expansive, empty eyes. He slid from his chair to his hands and knees, slithering under the table with a practiced, serpentine crawl, disconcerting the blonde youth. Mello quickly skirted backwards in his chair, standing and stumbling, but Beyond beckoned for him to sit.

"You trust me, don't you?" he implored in that velvet voice of his. Mello sat and Beyond lifted his lips to his ear. He dropped his voice low, so microphones could not distinguish his words, and he cupped his mouth, so cameras could not read his lips. "Mello," he whispered melodiously, "This is my secret. Since my birth, it has been my blessing and my curse and I have not had occasion to share it with anyone. That said, I have never had a friend before, and I suppose that changes matters. So, Mihael Mello Kheel, as my first and only friend, I think you should know; I have the eyes of a shinigami. This means I can see a person's name and the number of years they have left to live hanging over their head like a guillotine." Satisfied, he rocked back onto his heels, still crouching in a not-quite-L-like manor.

"Holy shi-" Mello managed to cry before Beyond Birthday clamped his palm over his mouth.

"Hush, that's a wicked word," BB growled affably, pressing a long, bony index finger to his smile in a silent reminder before releasing his newfound friend. Mello leaned in close, shielding his words.

"Would you be willing to tell your secret to L? Beyond, it could save his life!" he croaked in a gruff recitative.

"That depends," BB answered, grinning manically "if L is willing to be my friend. Until then, you may inform him of shinigami eyes and their function, but not that I possess them. Does that sound acceptable?" Mello nodded conspiratorially, and in that moment of sly solidarity, the pair of them became friends.

Now that I think it through, it makes sense. Mello and Beyond becoming friends, that is. As a couple of kindred kids thrust into similar situations, beaten black and blue, how could they not? Both of them had only ever been backup, a fall-back in the event of some horrible calamity; they were creatures of catastrophe. With that in mind, can you really blame them for craving a bit of bedlam? Having read Mello's recount of the Los Angeles BB Murders (and editing it, as his spelling is atrocious) I shouldn't have been surprised when, later that evening, Mello burst into my room and told me that he and Beyond Birthday were leaving Wammy's House.

I remember it in sweet, sharp, silent, slow detail. He threw his weight against my bedroom door, flinging it open with so much enthusiasm that it damaged the wall. I looked up from my Nintendo DS, tearing my eyes away from Yoshi being pitched off the edge of Rainbow Road, in time to see the strangest sight; the defiant, catch-me-if-you-can kind of pout that usually sat atop Mello's lips was gone, and in its place was a smile. I was entranced- no, not entranced, I was merely caught off guard. I was caught off guard by that smile because, in truth, Mello never smiled; he only ever wore various shades of misery. I was so caught off guard that all I could hear was a muffled roaring, as though my ears were underwater.

He grasped my shoulders and he shook me and he laughed and he hugged me and he crushed me and he held me and he flashed just one last smile my way and he was gone. Just like that –without a second glance- he was gone. I know this story is not about me, but… No, nevermind. It would take a separate memoir to begin to describe what I felt. Maybe someday someone will write that memoir about me, but until then, I will dutifully endeavour to detail the deeds of Beyond Birthday and my very own missing Mello.

Together, I know that they meandered through the May midnight, leaving Wammy's house behind them. They trudged through the English spring mud, until Mello's combat boots were weighed down by caked mud and Beyond's shoulders blistered from the straps of the bag he was carrying. "Hold up," Mello called to the dark shape of Beyond Birthday.

"What is it?" B hissed as he dropped the heavy bag to the asphalt and his eyes searched the sable street with a lethal glimmer.

"No, it's nothing, just my shoelace…" Mello explained sheepishly. Beyond's reaction had, however, made him aware of the sordid suburb they were in; for a moment, he was nearly afraid, being the relatively callow teenager that he was. Dropping to a crouch, he looped his laces into a knot and laughed softly to himself.

"Does something amuse you?" Beyond Birthday asked, cocking his head and shifting his fraying mop of black hair.

"These roads aren't that dangerous. Not really," he murmured, lacing his other boot.

"Oh, but they are." His companion exclaimed. "They're filled with derelict hovels home to scum of the lowest degree! If you concentrate on a still night such as this, you can almost smell something in the air. Something… Something sleazy. It's perfectly dangerous, Mello." Yanking himself from his crouch, Mihael sauntered to where BB stood and placed a mock punch on his shoulder.

"But, Beyond," he grinned, "none are so dangerous as you." This was received as a compliment, earning Mello an askew little smile.

"I'm flattered," he uttered mellifluously. "But may I ask that you not touch my shoulders? They're chaffed from walking approximately nine miles carrying that wretched bag."

"What exactly have you got in there?" Mello inquired, eyebrows furrowed in mystification.

"Oh, you know," Beyond answered, shrugging, "just the essentials. Jam, a few knives- for opening jam-, a few spoons –just in case you wanted to share my jam- and a couple of other things. A screwdriver, for instance," he summarised, digging through the front pocket to produce a tool with a bright blue handle. He held it delicately by the blade, between his thumb and forefinger, letting it dangle in the dank of the night demonstratively.

"Why didn't you say so nine miles ago?" Mello asked in light-hearted exasperation.

"I didn't think my possession of a screwdriver was of any consequence." Beyond answered truthfully, his eyes widening innocently.

"We could have stolen a car…" Mello explained suggestively.

"We still can," B answered, confounded by his friend's use of subtlety. Mihael nodded beguilingly, and only then did Beyond Birthday appreciate his intentions. "Oh. Well then, when you see one you like, we'll take it."

"There aren't likely to be any cars worth driving in a suburb like this," the blonde boy pouted churlishly, indulging his passion for outrageously priced vehicles.

"Would you rather walk another nine miles to a nicer part of town, Mello?"

"No, I suppose you're right," he conceded with a sigh. "Let's just grab something and go. We can swap it if we happen to come across something shiny." With an amused quirk of his eyebrows, Beyond Birthday set to work on the nearest functioning automobile, which –much to Mello's dismay- happened to be a pewter grey, 1990 model Toyota Camry. Electric blue screwdriver in hand, lanky arms swathed in muddy white linen wrenched open the bonnet of the ancient car, wrenching a red coil wire from the engine and taping it to the battery. Nimble fingers with dirty nails fumbled and fiddled until the dashboard sprung to life.

"Eureka. I am a genius." Beyond Birthday stated sanguinely.

"Hey, don't celebrate just yet. We haven't actually got it running," Mello admonished with a long-fingered hand on his hip.

"But the worst of it is over," B said with his eyes alight. "Now comes the fun part."

"Fun pa-?" Mello began, but was cut off by the tinkling of glass and the bleating of sirens as his companion forced his way into the car.

"Go grab the bag," Beyond hollered over the din, scrambling for the starter solenoid under the steering wheel as a clearly intoxicated man of approximately forty stumbled from the building nearest to them, brandishing a gun.

"Whaddaya fink ya doin'?" the drunkard hollered, firing two shots that missed the vehicle by several metres. "Gimme me car back!" Staggering through the mud, Mello reached the bag and Beyond revved the engine, bringing it to life with a careful twist of his screwdriver.

"Hurry it up, Mello!" he shrieked, as the man continued firing shots wildly, one of which actually managed to shatter the driver's side view mirror. With a haphazard slip of his boots on the wet asphalt, Mello lurched into the car with the bag, wrenching the door closed behind him and Beyond toed the accelerator with abandon, regardless of the poor fiend still hollering at them from the middle of the road. BB coaxed the old car faster, driving them away from the sodden, sleazy suburb they had found themselves in without so much as looking back.


End file.
